


Horny Halo Oneshots (working title)

by kireteiru



Series: SMUT [11]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: (They haven’t talked about their relationship yet but they’re both cool with it), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent?, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Human Cortana (Halo), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Polle, Sleep Sex, Smut, Wet Dream, vague smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireteiru/pseuds/kireteiru
Summary: You know, for a franchise that has a naked woman in the media on the regular, this fandom really isn't that horny. Or at least the parts I see aren’t.
Relationships: Cortana/John-117 | Master Chief
Series: SMUT [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372522
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. Accidentally in Love - ABO, Accidental Mating

John wasn't sure what he expected when he stepped into the lab, but it certainly wasn't what he saw. Admirals Hood and Osman were arguing quietly with each other and a terrifyingly calm Doctor Halsey, with a dozen or more scientists looking on, trying and failing to act like they weren't eavesdropping from their workstations. The Spartan paused for a moment to sweep the room, cataloging all weapons and exits, then approached the trio.

“...you are intelligent, Serin, and I will not disrespect you by implying otherwise," Halsey was saying, "You know as well as I how many eyes are on this project, how much is riding on this being a success - and how many people would love for even the _slightest_ excuse to defund the entire program, regardless of the potential fallout."

“Those idiots in the budget office don't even know what the consequences would _be_ ," Osman growled quietly, so quietly that John was certain none of the eavesdroppers heard her.

“Indeed. Thank you for joining us, John," Halsey said when he stopped and saluted, "The rest of you, out.”

“And if any of you breathe so much as a _word_ of this to _anyone_ , you will be on ONI's shit list from now until the end of time," Osman added.

Several scientists swallowed thickly, but all of them were quiet when they scurried out of the lab. When they had gone, Hood sighed. "At ease, son. We've got a bit of a situation on our hands."

Those words made the Chief tense up more than the actual summons to the lab. After his and Cortana's narrow escape from the destruction of the Didact's ship, Doctor Halsey had come and whisked the dying AI away before anyone could tell her "no". It had been almost a year since then, but he hadn't received any word from either of them until now. The rest of Blue Team had convinced him that no news was good news, but Hood's words brought all that tension and worry rocketing back.

"Sir?"

“Cortana is still with us, John," Halsey said, "but right now we need to know if there has ever been a time where you were working closely with her, had her in your armor while you were off your suppressants."

For a moment the Spartan blanked. What did that have to do with this? Still, he dutifully answered, "Yes, ma'am, during the Battle of Alpha Halo up until our return to Earth. The MJOLNIR’s automatic injections ran out, and the refills were destroyed when the _Autumn_ crashed. We only had the standard ones."

Which were better than nothing, but because of their various augmentations, standard military suppressants really only functioned as a scent blocker for Spartans - for his generation, at least. He wasn't sure about the S-lVs, but for everyone else, the suppressants blocked scents - pheromones emitted for various reasons - as well as ruts and heats, and it also functioned as birth control for those who could carry children.

The officers and scientist exchanged glances that made a knot of anxiety form in his gut. Then Halsey turned back to him. "How much did Déjà teach you about secondary genders, John? Did she teach you all about involuntary mating?”

_Uh oh._

“Just the basics, ma'am; we weren't ever supposed to go off our suppressants except for the once-yearly... _season_ , to maintain our health.”

In addition to determining primary biological sex, the "sex chromosomes" also carried markers which determined a person's secondary gender - Alpha, Beta, or Omega. The Spartans had been trained well, but John would have needed a doctorate in genetics to explain the complicated web of dominant and recessive, presenting and non-presenting ABO markers. What he had been told was that everyone inherited two markers, one from each of their parents, though usually only one presented. Beta was the most common presented marker, though not _overwhelmingly_ so, and the majority of the S-lls had been Beta-presenting, including Serin herself and Doctor Halsey.

John had been one of only five so-called "thoroughbred" Alphas among the S-lls, having inherited an “A” marker from each of his parents. Most people would - and did - take pride in being "thoroughbred", but he _hated_ it and knew that Fred did as well, and the others had, too, before their deaths. The other Spartan Alphas had all been AB, which made their ruts _much_ milder. With a finely balanced cocktail of scent blockers, they could ride it out together or even work through it.

The thoroughbreds didn't have that option. Their ruts made them stupidly aggressive and territorial and therefore absolutely _miserable_ ; the Spartans had been trained as a pack, and being separated from the group or even just their own squad made them bitterly unhappy.

"I can't say she taught us about involuntary mating," John continued, "Or if she did, it's been long enough that I’ve forgotten, ma’am. Is it... what it sounds like?”

"To a certain extent, though probably not the way you're thinking," Halsey replied, “When was your last rut?"

The Spartan swallowed and said, "July 2549."

All three of them squinted at him, which he resolutely ignored. Then Halsey said, “I suppose we'll just have to be grateful for that, then. I can only imagine what kind of disaster it would have been if we had discovered this earlier.”

“It might still be,” Serin said, pinching the bridge of her nose for forestall a headache.

To John, Halsey said, "Involuntary mating is a rare phenomenon now - almost everyone is on suppressants - but it has been known to occur when highly compatible individuals work closely together for an extended period of time while _off_ suppressants. They can become chemically, hormonally, and pheremonally attuned to one another to the point where they are biologically mated without ever consummating the relationship and exchanging the so-called ‘mating bites’ - or even without there ever being a relationship at all.”

The Spartan blanked again, then said, "Cortana and I are involuntarily mated?"

"So it would seem.”

“All right. So what's happening? Why is that important?"

“We’ll get to that in a second. You're taking this very calmly."

“As far as I'm aware there's not much we can do about it now, ma'am."

“Indeed." The scientist eyed him for a moment, then continued, "I'm sure you're well aware of how badly off Cortana was when you were retrieved from the _Mantle's Approach_.”

The Spartan nodded. The blue and pink static had been a constant haze at the edges of his HUD by the time they'd arrived on the _Infinity_ , coupled with whispers in his ear that ran the full spectrum of emotion. On top of that, his armor's function had been... _glitchy_. Abrupt starts and stops, sudden lockups or even shutdowns, unexpected pressurization and depressurization of the hydrostatic gel layer... It had gotten so bad that Cortana had told him to eject her chip, and though that had been the _last_ thing he’d wanted to do, he had obeyed.

“Given her state, I didn't believe recompiling her into a new AI was a viable solution," said Halsey, "Instead, we decided - and she agreed - to test a new procedure where an AI is implanted in a flash clone. Our understanding of genetics and cloning has grown greatly even just over the past several years, so we've been able to eliminate many of the defects that have plagued previous generations. We'll still be keeping a very close eye on her, however - probably for the rest of her life. I understand it may be a bit of a shock, but the procedure was a complete success. She implanted in the host body with no problems."

It didn't take any great leaps of logic to see where she was going with all of this. “She's in season?"

“Unfortunately, yes.” Halsey frowned deeply. "We intended to start her on low-grade suppressants before she presented to give her more time to adjust, but I was forced to let others handle some aspects of her care. Those doing her bloodwork weren't keeping a close enough eye on her hormone levels."

Her expression said she wouldn't soon forget it, and Serin's matched. Hood just looked tired.

"We've been doing what we can for her since then, but her heat hasn't ended," the scientist finished.

Which was a sure fire sign that she was mated; mated pairs’ heats and ruts could last up to five times as long if they were apart during it. “Emergency icers?" Meaning the suppressants meant to stop a heat or rut after it had already begun. On the few occasions he’d had to take them during the Human-Covenant War, they had been thoroughly unpleasant but very effective.

“Both of us are allergic, though which kind causes which reaction seems to change from year to year. I would rather not play guessing games with her life."

“She needs you, son," Hood said finally, “but if this isn't something you want, we won't force you.”

“Though it is _highly_ encouraged," Serin added.

That started the two of them arguing again. Halsey ignored them and led him to an isolation chamber at the back of the lab. He hated the damned things - white, cold, soulless - and he hated them even more when he saw Cortana curled up on a mattress and pile of blankets in a corner. From what he could see of her, she looked pretty much the same as she had as a hologram, just human now. Her dark hair even had a slight blue tint to it.

“What is she?" he asked quietly.

"OA."

His eyebrows shot up at that. Omega-Alphas and their Alpha-presenting counterpart Alpha-Omegas were not quite the rarest configurations (that _dubious_ honor went to the thoroughbred Omegas), but they _were_ the only configurations that were _actively courted_ to serve in the UNSC, and received a great many benefits for doing so. AOs and OAs both had the fighting power and instincts of an Alpha without the territoriality and ingrained resistance to taking orders, and the pack-bonding and protectiveness of an Omega without being prone to evasion and escape, _flight_ rather than _fight_.

But then John frowned. He knew that Halsey was a BA, a Beta-Alpha, so where had Cortana received her O from?

He quirked an eyebrow at the scientist, who sighed quietly. "It's a little late now, but… before I gave her to Jacob, Miranda used to tell me that she wanted a sibling.”

 _Ah_. John nodded in understanding. But then he hesitated. "Do you... think she'll let me?”

“I would be genuinely surprised if she didn't.”

He nodded again and stepped toward the airlock into the room.

* * *

The scent hit him like a MAC round. He had no real words to describe exactly what Cortana smelled like to him now - nothing except _contentment. Safety. Home._

But there was an undercurrent of distress that made him smother a growl. Instead of hunting down the scientists who hadn't been keeping a close enough eye on her biochemistry (another thing he didn't want to think about), he entered the attached bathroom and dug around for a washcloth, ignoring the sting of the injection site in his arm.

Most people took about seventy-two hours to clear their suppressants if they just stopped taking them. A counter-injection brought that down to twenty-four hours.

He would clear his in six hours. Hopefully that would be enough.

The Spartan returned to the main room, noting that Doctor Halsey had put down the privacy shutters, and had to smother another growl at the thought of all those scientists _watching_ Cortana as she suffered through her first heat.

Then he frowned. He shouldn't have been this _protectivepossessive_ of her so quickly.

Maybe they really were mated.

He set that aside for now in favor of wiping Cortana down as gently as he knew how, careful not to hurt her new body. She had already suffered enough, and he didn't want to be the one to cause her more pain.

("LIKE HE IMPRISONED HIS PROMETHEANS?! LIKE DOCTOR HALSEY IMPRISONED _ME_?!")

When she was as clean as she was going to get without him actually giving her a bath, he tucked her back into the nest she had made, rinsed the washcloth, then dampened a different one and laid it on her forehead to try to keep her temperature down. He had a vague memory of his mother doing the same for him a long time ago, so he supposed it was worth a shot.

It didn't actually take her too much time to come back around. His scent was probably starting to filter through already, because she distinctly sniffed the air, frowned, and forced her eyes open to squint at him.

He realized then that he didn't know if she had ever actually seen his face. But she _had_ heard him speak before, even though he was usually characterised by his silence. "Cortana."

She relaxed at once, and smiled up at him. “John," she said softly, "I missed you."

“I missed you too."

Her smile widened. Then she stretched and resettled with a sigh. "I don't understand how you can do this every year," she mumbled, rolling onto her side to face him, "Well, everyone else, anyway.”

“You knew?"

“Who do you think helped you change your records starting in 2550? It wasn't exactly hard to see that you were _miserable_. Now I know why.” She frowned again and let her eyes drift shut. "Did Doctor Halsey tell you?"

“She did, though not the _how_.”

“Working theory is because I was borrowing some of your wetware via your neural lace," she hummed, "Compatibility has to be high for it to work; otherwise bad things could happen - to both of us. Needless to say, the UNSC's put a mandatory halt to any AI-unmated Spartan pairings until further notice, unless it's an absolute emergency."

“Probably for the best." He brushed the backs of his fingers over her hair. It was the softest thing held ever felt. "Though we're not exactly in high demand now that the war's over. _Supposedly_.”

Cortana snorted, and her smile returned. “Ah yes, the _hypothetical end_ of the war,” she said, her voice as dry as a desert, “along with the _supposed_ end of your missions.”

"You've been reading my after-action reports." It wasn't a question, not really. In fact, he'd expected it.

She opened her eyes again and gave him a mischievous smile. "I might not be an AI anymore, but I still know my way around.”

He felt a smile of his own tugging at his lips. Everything had changed, but she was still very much herself.

“I've missed going out with you, though," she continued, "You always did take me to such nice places.”

“Even with all the murderous aliens?"

Cortana laughed at that. "Yes, even with them. Though I'm sure you understand when I say I never want to go anywhere I might encounter the Flood again."

"Agreed," John nearly growled. He remembered the Gravemind and the damage it had done all too well.

He laid down next to her, right at the edge of her nest, but she pulled him into the blankets and tucked herself against him with a contented sigh.

"The Gravemind," she said softly, sleep already setting in again, "While I was on _High Charity_ , he tried to get me to go over to the Flood of my own free will and promised me something like this in exchange. This is much better than anything he showed me.”

"There is something to be said for reality and truth, rather than the illusion of them."

* * *

John shot back to full awareness the instant Cortana whined against his throat. He let out a soft rumble in response, trying to soothe her while he took everything in.

Isolation chamber. Lights were low; his body clock told him it was somewhere between midnight and one AM. Cortana was in his arms, human now, smelling of _home_ and _distress_ and a rising metallic scent he’d always associated with a plasma bombardment. It was coming from the former AI; the Spartan had cleared his suppressants, and her heat was ratcheting higher in response, trying to spark him into a rut.

It was definitely working. He could feel his temperature starting to rise, sweat breaking out on his skin and heat pooling in his gut.

The Spartan shook the AI awake. "Cortana.”

She too rocketed back to full awareness, blinked, and then started spitting some of the most foul language he'd ever heard. She'd paid more attention to the ODSTs than he’d realized.

When she took a breath to continue her tirade, he interrupted, "Do you want me here? I know we're technically mated, but if this isn't something you want, I can go.”

“What the _fuck_ kind of question is _that_?" she nearly snarled. She threw herself at him, forcing him to catch her, and took the opportunity to slam him onto his back in their nest. "Are _you_ saying that because _you_ don't want to be here?"

“Cortana, if I wasn't willing, I wouldn't have even entered the room. I've just never done this before.”

That made her soften a little. "Well neither have I, so this can be a learning experience for both of us.”

Their first kiss was awkward but gentle - neither of them knew 100% what to do - and it lasted for only a short while before Cortana shifted to bury her nose in his throat, scenting him. He found her hands with his own, and laced their fingers together palm to palm to let the scent glands on their wrists rub against each other, mixing their scents, marking each other.

The former AI nearly purred at that, then sat back and tugged at his shirt. When he obliged her and stripped, her hands felt cool against his chest, even though he knew she was burning up.

But then she giggled, and John quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're softer than expected," she said, running her hands up his chest and then down his arms, “I suppose I thought you'd be hard like your armor - a slightly fleshy boulder, I guess - but I don't know why I thought that."

“No frame of reference?" he suggested right before she leaned down to kiss him again.

“Maybe," she murmured between kisses, "Doesn't explain why it carried over though. Come on, soldier, clothes off."

"Still no frame of reference; I haven't exactly been able to drop by for you to check," John half-growled, toeing off his boots, "and it's kind of hard to get undressed when you're sitting on me.”

Cortana shifted off of him with reluctance, and he unbuckled his belt, then shoved everything else off in one push. He'd barely laid back into the nest before she was back on top of him, this time examining his scars. There were plenty to choose from various surgeries and nearly thirty years of constant warfare.

Her own skin was completely unmarked, aside from a few small dots in the crooks of her arms where the needles had gone in for her bloodwork. Soft, too; certainly softer than his own - except perhaps there.

"Gently," he managed when she shifted further back onto his thighs so she could take his half-hard cock in hand. Her touch _was_ gentle, _curious_ more than anything, and her hands were very different than his own, smaller, not rough with calluses from decades of training and warfare. She seemed to enjoy the roughness though, if her response to him rubbing his thumbs over her nipples was anything to go by. Still he made an effort to be as gentle as he knew how while his hands roamed her skin.

Cortana didn't seem to complain, exploring him as much as he was exploring her, before she decided she'd had enough of foreplay. She leaned forward to kiss him again, then shifted up and forward and back down again.

John threw back his head and gritted his teeth hard enough that his ears rang, his whole body locking up to stop from thrusting up. But Cortana was shaking above him, and he sat up on one elbow to hold her close, support her weight. “You all right?" he managed gruffly, his voice at least an octave deeper than it already was.

She nodded against his throat and gasped, "Fine. Just - _intense_."

The Spartan was inclined to agree. She was _perfect_ around him, and hopefully he was for her, and he wanted to stay there for the rest of time. "Let me know when you're ready to move."

She did. It took them a bit to find their rhythm, but they did and moved together as easily as they always had. Alpha instinct wanted John to reverse their positions, put Cortana on her back in the nest of blankets, but he ignored it in favor of supporting her weight, helping her move on him and being mindful of his greater strength. She was no civilian, he could tell just by looking at her, feeling the strength of her grip; Halsey had done _something_ to her, genetically engineered her flash clone in some way, but she wasn't Spartan-level augmented. He still had to be gentle.

But not too gentle. As before, she enjoyed a little manhandling, gave as good as she got. He rumbled deep in his chest, and she growled right back, a playful grin on her lips.

Then she gasped and tossed her head back, her whole body arching and blue-black hair flying as her climax took her by surprise - and him, when it dragged him over the edge with her. John clutched her close to stay buried inside her as his knot expanded - but he didn't bite until she did.

It took less than a minute for their racing hearts to carry the pheromone markers in their saliva up into their central nervous systems. And just like that, tension John hadn't even realized was there bled away.

* * *

“Well, that certainly explains why your cortisol levels have been so high for the past year," said Halsey, intently reading the results of the scans she'd run on them both when they'd finally worn themselves out, "I can't imagine that mating bond your body perceived as _one-sided_ was doing anything good for your health.”

John acknowledged her with a quiet hum, and when Cortana squeezed his hand with her own, he squeezed ever so slightly back.


	2. Cryogenic Dreams - Dream Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by Cryogenic Dreams by Phutureprimitive. Also, I'm open to suggestions.

John felt cool fingers stroking over the bare skin of his back, but even though he woke at the touch, he stayed where he was, a slight smile pulling at his lips. Her hands were smooth, far smoother than normal human hands, with a telling lack of fingernails, which let him know exactly who was leaning over him cataloguing his scars. “Cortana,” he murmured, his voice rougher than normal with sleep.

The AI hummed above him and kept mapping out the marks decades of warfare had left on his body, stroking long fingers over slices and gouges and pressing thumbs to stabs and punctures. Some of them were sensitive, making him shiver and his skin tingle, and some of them he hadn't known existed. But that was at least halfway understandable; he’d spent more of his life in armor than he ever had out of it, and sometimes looking at and feeling with his own skin was _strange_ , almost as alien as the Covenant.

When she reached the end of what she could touch while he was lying on his stomach, he rolled onto his back and looked up at her.

She looked the same as ever, her calm blue glow illuminating the otherwise dark, empty space they found themselves in. She smiled down at him, then resumed her analysis. As she did so, he found himself reaching up to tuck some oddly cool strands of hair behind her ear. Her smile widened, her eyes sliding shut, and she tilted her head into his uncharacteristically gentle touch.

John shifted his hand to cup her cheek. She was cool and smooth like hard light, but her form had a slight give to it like a real body. Then he let his hand fall to where her neck met her shoulder, pulses of light and data racing under her skin. When he focused as they passed, he could feel a tiny electrical discharge against his palm, almost like her version of a heartbeat.

He left his hand there, a light anchoring touch, and she continued cataloging the marks on his body. But the next time she found a sensitive scar, he inhaled quietly - and realized in the same moment that he was achingly hard. A rare occurrence, made rarer still after he left his teenage years and the augmentation procedures behind.

He grimaced, but Cortana just laughed softly. Then she leaned down and kissed him.

Her mouth was just as cool and smooth as the rest of her, with a barely-there static buzz that made his lips tingle, and his hand went tight on her shoulder, though he didn't know whether he would pull her closer or push her away. He ended up doing neither, instead tilting his head up to let their mouths move more easily together.

One of Cortana’s hands came to rest over his heart, and even though she herself was pleasantly cool, now his skin burned with pleasure where she touched. He finally took advantage of his grip on her, pulling her down on top of him. She didn't seem surprised by that, instead grinning and squirming against him to make him groan, and _oh_ , he wasn't going to let that go unanswered.

All at once her form was suddenly _anatomically correct_ , and when her legs spread over one of his thighs, he felt the wetness of her own arousal against his skin. He bent his knee, planted his foot on the unseen ground, and pressed his thigh up against her, and she gasped and arched into him, grinding down as he ground up. He held her close with an arm around her waist, watching the pleasure play across her face; it was even more alien to her than it was to him, which gave him an advantage, however slight.

John let his hands stroke down her sides, then gripped her thighs and lifted her higher on his body, ignoring her cry of protest in favor of pressing two fingers into her. She arched above him and gasped sharply, then descended into a whine when he crooked his fingers and massaged her inner walls while pressing and rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb.

The Spartan allowed himself the briefest smirk. Eavesdropping on the ODSTs was finally paying off.

The AI saw and hissed, writhing to escape his grip. Then she rolled back, _reached_ back, and sank down on his cock.

This time they both hissed, and John’s hands fell to her hips and went _tight_ , tight enough that on an ordinary woman his grip would have fractured bone. But it didn’t do the slightest bit of damage to her; if anything she arched into it, pressed closer, deeper into his grasp. He left one hand where it was but slid the other up her back and pulled her close again.

This kiss was even more electric than the last, and even though she was very warm - almost burning hot - around him, the rest of her had grown colder but also more _electric. “Chief,”_ she panted against his lips, her breath smelling faintly of menthol, but her voice was strangely distant, far away, like she was speaking from the other end of a long cave. He put it out of his mind and kissed her again, even as both of them started to move.

Her hands stroked over his skin, found his scars again and raised lines of goosebumps with her charged chill, even as his own followed the patterns of light and dark over her avatar. His temperature rose as hers dropped, both of them panting into each other’s mouths as their thrusts grew harder, sharper.

“Cortana,” he murmured, and shifted her a little higher on his body again, letting him plant his feet, get more power behind the rolls of his hips.

 _“Chief!”_ She sounded closer this time, but still oddly distant. Yet with the way she grew more frantic in his embrace, writhing against him, it was forgotten in an instant. Her hands found more sensitive skin, and in turn he sought her own, stroking one hand down her neck to her chest, briefly tweaking a nipple before wrapping it around her back again. His other hand found her clit once more, and she arched with a cry, walls tightening around him almost to the point of being crushing. But for him with her, that just pulled him over the edge.

His whole body seized up, vision blurring, blue and black turning to smears of silver and gray…

"Chief!”

John shook his head, blinked, then slapped his hands against the glass before him, breath quickening. “ _Easy_ ,” Cortana warned him, “You've been out for a while."

"Where are we?"

"We're still adrift on the _Dawn_."

“Why did you wake me?...”


	3. The Great Outdoors - Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PORN! Such as it is.

“It figures that the _one time_ you take your helmet off in the field, you’d end up getting hit full in the face by a strange plant on a stranger planet.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m never doing it again.”

“Armored in the womb, armored ‘til the tomb, huh?” Cortana pulled up his biosigns on her datapad as the Spartan nearly stormed his way back to their camp. A huge bug the size of his hand had attacked its reflection in his visor, and though he’d squished it, the mess it had created had been disproportionate to its size. He’d been forced to take off his helmet to clean it so he could see - only to have a teardrop-shaped flower spit a cloud of blue pollen in his face.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Your body’s reacting to something in the pollen, I’m guessing; your heart rate and temperature are higher than normal and still climbing. I know we don't exactly have a full medical suite, but I’m going to check you over back at camp.”

“ _Great_. Just what we need.”

* * *

When they reached the clearing where they’d set up camp, John collapsed heavily onto the stump he’d claimed as a seat. That alarmed Cortana more than anything else she had seen; even fighting his way through _High Charity_ to retrieve her, he’d been steady as a rock, his breathing and heart rate a little elevated but regular. Now he was all over the map, up to the point of hyperventilating then lowering almost to the point of unconsciousness.

The Spartan reluctantly removed his helmet so she could take a blood sample from his neck, and Cortana almost choked. “John!”

“I’m _fine_.”

“ _Bullshit!_ You're as red as a tomato, and your pupils are as big as the sun!”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Only a little.” She set the vial of blood to run through everything the testing machine had to offer, then reached back and tilted his head up to take a closer look.

Though he’d had a little time in the sun recently, now that the war was _actually_ over and the Spartans actually took (were forced to take) leave time, John was still pale, making his flush stand out. His pupils _were_ blown wide, though, leaving only a thin ring of blue at the rim. His lips were parted and as red as his cheeks, like he’d been biting them, and though his armor concealed the rise and fall of his chest, Cortana could see that he was panting heavily. “Describe your symptoms,” she said.

“Hot all over. Armor cooling’s at max, but it feels like it’s barely doing anything,” he managed, “Joints starting to ache. Headache - light’s too bright. Some nausea. And-” He stopped abruptly, flush darkening. “Fuck. The pollen was some kind of aphrodisiac.”

Cortana’s eyebrows went up. How did he kn- oh. The MJOLNIR wasn't exactly built to handle Spartans with erections; he was probably in quite a bit of pain. “All right, plates off, at least, but leave the reactor connection, let the cooling stay on.”

“Cortana, we’re-”

“-in the middle of nowhere with the ship still hours away, because Halsey thought she saw something _interesting_ on the planetary scans, surrounded by perimeter defenses that _you_ set up, the scale of which would probably be overkill even on a _hostile_ planet. Really, John? _Six_ automatic chain guns, with a _thousand rounds_ apiece, _and_ mines, and who knows what else you’ve put out there? Now, armor off.”

The Spartan scowled but started shucking plates.

Yep. Aphrodisiac. The former AI turned her gaze away to give him at least a little privacy.

“Did we at least get anything from the formation analysis?” John rumbled, carefully arranging the plates so he could pull them back on relatively quickly if something came up.

“Running the data now.” She hooked her datapad up to the transmitter to process the intel and send it back to _Infinity_ , then turned back to look at the Spartan again. Even if the MJOLNIR’s cooling was on maximum like he said, the man was still starting to sweat, firelight glimmering on his skin. “John…”

“I’ll be fine,” he gritted out.

She made a disbelieving noise and sat down next to him, guiding him to look at her once more. While her mastery of medicine was not quite as good as her maker’s just yet, she knew enough to know that the Spartan’s state was about as far from ideal as it was possible to get without dying. His cortisol levels were elevated, thickening his blood, forcing his heart to work harder to pump, which would wear the muscle out faster. In addition, it weakened his immune system and there for his body’s ability to fight off any one of the million potential diseases on the planet just _waiting_ for a way in-

She cut the thought off before she could finish it and eyed him again. He was tense enough that he looked ready to grind his teeth to dust. ‘Well, this isn't exactly how either of us planned on this happening, but beggars can’t be choosers - especially not now.’ They had been moving glacially slow towards something like a relationship, but they had been moving - and now this. She sighed, then checked his biosigns again - and almost choked, shooting to her feet. “All right, no. Come on, all the way off.”

“Cortana-?!”

She pulled her uniform shirt off and nearly threw it on the ground, glaring at him. “Your blood pressure is approaching hypertensive territory. Do you really think this pollen’s effects are going to wear off before you have a heart attack - or worse?”

He ground his teeth even harder, but now his gaze was almost as hot as the fire he’d lit in the center of their camp. Finally he disconnected the reactor panel and stood, going for the seal on the MJOLNIR techsuit. Cortana finished pulling off her uniform, then moved to help with the undersuit below it.

John _hissed_ when the last layer came off, and let Cortana pull him over to their bedrolls, which she promptly kicked together to make one larger one. As she did so, however, the former AI couldn't help but admire his form. Objectively she knew she was innately biased towards him - a little bit had carried over from Doctor Halsey, but it was also her own - but even without that, even when she had been just an AI and only understood attractiveness in the abstract, she had seen him in his uniform and thought him handsome.

It was even more true now. His eyes were still the same clear blue they had always been, but his dark hair now had the barest brush of distinguished gray. He was tall and muscular but not _cut_ the way bodybuilders were, wasn’t all sculpted muscle to the point of being gross - more like he belonged at one of the Strongman competitions from centuries ago.

‘And if they were still running, he would beat out everyone but a fellow Spartan,’ she thought to herself, pausing for a moment to just lay a hand on his bare skin - but then she squeaked when he scooped her up like he barely felt her weight even out of armor. He laid her out on the bedrolls and knelt between her legs to lean over her, but she had never felt safer - except maybe when he’d come for her in _High Charity_.

“Come here,” she said softly, and he did. It wasn't the first time they had kissed, but it was decidedly less chaste than all the ones before. Those had been gentle breezes - this was a typhoon, and Cortana wanted nothing more than to be swept away. She reached up blind and ran her hands down his chest, and he shivered and broke the kiss to pant against her lips.

“Cortana…”

“All right?”

He swallowed thickly, then nodded and leaned down to kiss her again. This time he shifted his weight back a little and smoothed his hands down her sides; despite all his years in armor, his hands were still callused and rasped faintly over her skin. Now it was her turn to shiver.

Despite his obvious hunger, the Spartan was gentle with her, mindful of his augmented strength, but not so gentle that she felt like glass in his hands. In a way, it was kind of thrilling; he had so much power packed into a not-so-compact frame, but he made it completely clear that he would never, _ever_ hurt her. Although, when she pressed a kiss to his shoulder…

“ _Blech_. Your skin tastes like the techsuit.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't _lick me_ until I’ve showered,” he murmured against her throat, his whole body taut as a wire as he eased inside her, “And why do you even know what the techsuit tastes like?”

“I wasn’t _licking_ you,” she gasped, “and it’s _definitely_ not ‘skin-flavored’, so what else would it be?” The vibration of his voice from where their chests were pressed together did pleasant things to her insides, to say nothing of where he filled her, thick and hot.

 _Too_ hot. “Come on, John. Your heart’s going to give out at this rate.”

He grunted quietly, as if that was nothing to be concerned about, which she would have vigorously objected to if he hadn't started to move, thoroughly distracting her from everything she’d been about to say. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and arched into him, panting against his throat, and felt him tilt his head against her own.

Even though this was new to them both, they were as in sync as they had ever been; Cortana ground up even as John thrust down, their heads tilting together to kiss again _just so_ , and even though their teeth clacked together, they didn't stop except to breathe.

The former AI felt utterly overwhelmed by the warmth and friction of the Spartan’s skin over her own, the rough, hot drag of his hands over her breasts, her sides, her legs. John’s own body shivered where she touched him, and as close as they were she heard every sound he made - right up to the end. He climaxed before her, his whole body going taut - not unexpected, given the effects of the pollen - but he did not leave her unsatisfied, pulling out and pressing two fingers inside her while finding her clit with his thumb.

He found exactly the right movement and pressure on the very first try, the lucky bastard.

Cortana had no breath in her lungs to cry out; she just arched up into him with a sharp gasp that made her throat burn and her chest ache, and clutched at his shoulders, legs still clamped tight around his waist. Then she went limp, and he caught her and lowered her to the bedroll, then collapsed next to her.

Cortana turned her head to look at him, doing a quick visual check - then lifting her head to peer over his chest. Her tablet had fallen off the crate she’d left it on, which let her see that the Spartan’s biosigns were returning to normal. As a result, she felt no guilt in rolling over to curl up against his side.

John wrapped an arm around her waist and tilted his head against her own with a soft sigh. “Thank you.”

“ _Please_ ,” Cortana murmured, running her hand down his chest and earning another faint shiver, “Don’t act like it’s a hardship to sleep with you, John.”

“Still. Thank you.”

She tilted her head up and let her lips twitch into a smile. “You're welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a list of at least a few more planned, but two are currently in progress: a Time Travel Semi-AU and a Hades & Persephone AU. Which would y'all like to see first? Vote now on your phones


	4. Hades & Persephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays y'all. I wanted to do the Time Travel AU one because it has more of a winter vibe, but this one was closer to being done.

He was polite, at least. And, while she wasn't necessarily _happy_ about being snatched from the surface to be the bride of the (admittedly handsome, in his own way) God of the Dead, being Queen of the Underworld was a _vast_ improvement for being trapped in her mother’s shadow for all eternity.

It wasn't even that bad down below, not nearly so much as the mortals made it out to be. The Underworld almost mirrored the world above, spread out in a gradient of sorts, with Hades’ - “Please, call me John. ‘Hades’ is the name of the realm, and more of a job title.” - still and quiet palace on a high peak at the center. The mountain rose out of the center of a lake, with the Islands of the Blessed dotted close around it, where those who had lived repeated virtuous or heroic lives dwelled. The shores beyond with the Elysian Fields, where heroes and the righteous lived after the end of their first few lives. From there, the Fields faded slowly into the Asphodel Meadows, where the ordinary folk dwelled until rebirth. The Meadows weren’t as pleasant as Elysium, but they weren’t as bad as the mortals above believed - and nowhere near as awful as Tartarus beyond. _That_ was where the Titans were chained, and where the wicked went after death to be punished for their misdeeds, great and small.

Even though Elysium and the Islands of the Blessed mirrored the surface more closely than anything else she’d seen anywhere in the Underworld, she didn’t often go there - not because it hurt to be reminded of the place she’d been taken from, but because there was somewhere else she preferred more.

 _Kore_ , “the Maiden”, though she preferred _Cortana_ , had wandered frequently during her early days in the Underworld. Hades - John - had been perfectly polite and respectful, aside from the whole “abduction” thing, and only told her to avoid Tartarus because of its unpleasant residents. Otherwise she was free to go where she liked - though obviously not back to the surface. The furthest she’d gone in that direction was out to where Cerberus guarded the gates of the Underworld, mostly to count his heads (people said he had anywhere from one to a hundred) and pet him if he allowed it; the number of heads varied from moment to moment, and he had, and been quite delighted by her attention.

Cortana still went out to visit him occasionally, but she spent most of her time in the garden at the heart of John’s palace. It was separate from the gardens where the food of the dead grew, with beds of plants that only bloomed at night. To facilitate that, the garden was trapped in a state of perpetual night, lit only by the silver glow of the moon, which didn’t seem to affect the plants at all. They grew and bloomed and died back as all plants did on the surface under the light from Helios and his chariot.

She was there when John came to look for her.

“My queen.”

Cortana sat up from where she’d been lying half under a wide Datura, stroking the nearly glowing flowers. “Yes?”

“There is one of the living here to petition us, if you wish to attend.”

She frowned, but got up and brushed the dirt off her _peplos_. “You want me to hear this petitioner?”

“It is not whether or not _I_ want you to,” said John as she came to stand before him, “but whether or not _you_ want to. You are the Queen of the Underworld; it is your right to hear any petitions made regarding anything within our borders.”

She hummed, and walked with John through the halls. “Who is the petitioner?”

“You might know him - the hero Heracles.”

“I know _of_ him. What’s Hera done?”

John raised an amused eyebrow in her direction. “What makes you think she was involved?”

“Heracles is a child of Zeus, same as me,” she answered, “and Hera has never liked that her husband has been extremely _free_ with his ‘ _sword_ ’, though it is us who are his children who end up paying the price for his indiscretions.”

Hades hummed in agreement. “Hera drove him mad for a time, to the point that he slew his wife and children. Now he seeks to make amends for their deaths, and has been assigned a number of Labors to complete, this last of which apparently involves our domain.”

There were two thrones, identical in size and shape, on a dais at the head of the hall. Neither one sat ahead or out of balance with the other, overshadowed the other, took precedence over the other.

Equals.

Cortana shot John a brief glance out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t react, only gesturing for her to join him. They both took their seats, and after a moment Heracles was escorted into the hall to stand before them. He looked like he had been in a fight recently, but he still carried himself with pride-

Too much pride. Cortana’s eyes narrowed at his near-swagger and confident grin. It seemed that Heracles took after their father in more ways than one.

The hero did address them with respect, however. “My lord and lady,” he said, and bowed deeply.

Cortana hummed quietly, and John briefly glanced her way again before speaking. “Heracles, son of Zeus and Alcmene, what brings you before us?”

“You know, my lord, that I have been given Labors to complete to purify me of my sins,” and there a flicker of grief passed over his face, “King Eurystheus of Tiryns has as last handed down the final one: to capture Cerberus and bring it before him. I ask your leave to make the attempt.”

Cortana spoke before she could stop herself. “You may not harm him,” she said fiercely, thinking of the happy, almost puppy-like serpent-dog who greeted her with many tongues eagerly licking her face every time she went out to see him, “You may use no weapons against him, and when your Labor is complete, he is to be released so that he may return.”

Heracles seemed surprised at her, which _she_ was _not_ surprised by. Though not actually born in Athens, the hero had been raised in the Athenian tradition, which dictated that women were essentially the property of their fathers, then their husbands, with less power even than Spartan women. _They_ at least were permitted to own land and run the estates while their husbands were away at war, whereas in Athens’ women were slaves in all but name.

The hero looked to Hades, and Cortana despaired inside. Though she was his bride and he called her his queen, John was still the brother of Zeus and Poseidon; Zeus and Hera were known for their fights, despite their marriage, and while unmarried, Poseidon rarely tolerated defiance from any of his assorted lovers and consorts. She closed her eyes and waited-

“Well? You have heard the terms set by the queen,” said John, “No weapons, that no harm may come to Cerberus, and he is to be released to return here when the Labor is judged complete. Unless you wish to remain here instead?”

Heracles paled at that, and bowed again before being escorted from the hall. Even though he had spoken to defend her, in a way, Cortana still didn't look over at Hades, not even when he turned to look at her. “You’re worried about him. Cerberus.”

“...When mortals look upon him, they see only a monster, and even the greatest heroes are rarely ever kind to the ones they encounter. Besides, there is too much of Zeus in Heracles; perhaps he would not have been cruel without cause, but he would not have been gentle with him, either. I didn't like the thought of him coming back poisoned by his arrows dipped in hydra blood or with parts missing or crushed by his club - or not coming back at all.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John incline his head in acknowledgement, grimacing. “In that we are most definitely in agreement; Zeus has never been known for _equivalent_ responses. More like _wildly disproportionate_. I agree with the terms you set, but next time we have a petitioner? A little bit of warning would be appreciated, so we can discuss together what may or may not be appropriate.”

That made her finally look at him, and he gave her a soft smile, then stood up and held out a hand for her. “Shall we go and watch, to make sure Heracles holds to our terms?”

Cortana hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his and letting him pull her to her feet.

* * *

It was a hard battle, but Heracles did as commanded and captured Cerberus without weapons and without harm - _undue_ harm, at least. Cortana stood next to John and watched as the hero bound the hound and carried him over to where Charon waited to bear them back across the River Styx. Cerberus was whining in distress through the many ropes that bound his many jaws, and she longed to run to him, reassure him that all would be well and he would be back to guard the gates of the Underworld very soon, but as it was she could have used a little reassurance of her own.

Even as she thought that, John took a step closer and gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, while also making it clear she could shake him off without fear if he was unwelcome. “It’ll be alright, Kore,” he said quietly, “He’ll be home before you know it.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder and said, “I hope you're right.” After a moment, she said, “Cortana.”

“Pardon?”

“My name. I prefer Cortana.”

“Cortana,” he repeated, “As you wish.”

He was right, fortunately; an indeterminable but still undeniably short time later, Charon ferried the massive hound back across Styx, hunched over to avoid being whacked off the boat by the furiously wagging tail. The moment they were close enough, Cerberus jumped from the boat and almost capsized it, but Charon righted it and turned around without even landing on the shore, muttering all the while. The hound landed on the shore without touching so much as a drop of the toxic water, and barked in delight before rolling onto his back and wriggling in the dust.

Cortana rushed to his side and scratched and rubbed his belly, earning more delighted barks and whines, before the dog rolled back to his feet and turned to start licking her face, making her laugh. She knew when John had come down as well, because Cerberus started, then nearly howled in overwhelming happiness before charging past her to jump the other god, flinging himself into his master’s arms.

The sight would have been horrifically strange to mortal eyes, but she didn't even blink at the sight of the “cold and distant God of the Dead” catching his multi-ton pet serpent-dog and swinging him in a circle like a child, laughing amidst delighted barks from said dog. Then he set Cerberus back down on his paws so he could run around on the shore, which he did, whizzing past in a blur of fur and scales and flying sand. Cortana just laughed, same as John, and let him take her hands and twirl her there on the riverbank, the skirts of her _peplos_ swirling around her.

She didn't protest when he drew her into a gentle embrace, only sighed and leaned against the god’s shoulder. “I suppose Heracles got what he wanted, then.”

“So it would seem.” John tilted his head back and seemed to stare through the darkness high overhead that blanketed the Underworld like the surface’s blue sky. “Hera is furious, of course, but Heracles is free.”

Cerberus went tearing by again, barking, kicking up more sand and making them both laugh.

* * *

The next petitioner to come was a mortal poet and singer by the name of Orpheus. He had been newly wed to a woman by the name of Eurydice, and after their wedding, she had been celebrating, dancing with naiads while he played his lyre for them. But a shepherd spotted her and the naiads - though not Orpheus, it seemed - and made as if to carry her off. She fled - and stepped on a viper in her flight, which bit her and gave her a fatal dose of its venom. Orpheus had sung his grief to the world, and so moved the gods of Olympus that they had let him come to the Underworld in an attempt to win back her life.

John hummed at that and exchanged a look with Cortana, then gestured for him to play.

Cortana had never heard anything so mournful in her life. Before he was even halfway through his songs, she had to focus very hard on breathing to stop from sobbing, tears pouring unashamed down her cheeks. John was more stoic, but even his eyes were wet when he sent Orpheus from the hall so they could speak.

He used the cloth of his own _chiton poderes_ to wipe her tears away and held her until they faded. “His love for this Eurydice is great indeed,” he said, combing his fingers through her dark hair in a soothing gesture.

“Agreed,” said Cortana, her breath still hitching, “but still I wonder…”

“Wonder _what_ , my queen?”

“He mourns for her deeply enough to move even the gods, and loves her enough that he is willing to risk the dangers of the Underworld to get her back - he’s made it this far, after all - but he is not willing to _die_ for her, to take his own life to be with her again?”

John frowned at that. “You think he is not wholly true? That he wants to live - or fears death - more than he loves her?”

“It’s possible.” She pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “We need some way to test him. If he passes, then he is true - or true _enough_ \- and his wife should be returned. If he does _not_ …”

John hummed, then told her his idea. She agreed, and they called Orpheus back in. “We will permit you a chance to restore your wife to life,” said the god, “ _but_. There are conditions. She will follow behind you on your way out of the Underworld, but you are _not_ permitted to look back at her until both of you have left the caves of the Underworld and stand in the light of the Sun once more. If you do this successfully, she will be restored. If you _fail_ , she will return here forever, and no more attempts will be permitted.”

Orpheus nodded, and bowed to them both before being escorted back out of the hall like Heracles before him. As he went, John waved a hand, and the shade of a beautiful woman in wedding attire appeared behind him and followed him out, almost near enough to touch. “Now we shall see.”

“That was her? Eurydice?”

“Aye,” he answered, leaning back on his throne, “If by chance he does make it back to the surface with her still in tow, the light from Helios’s chariot will restore her completely. We need only to wait and see.”

An indeterminate but still short amount of time later (shorter than the time it took for Cerberus to return), the shade of Eurydice reappeared in the hall. “Ah,” said John, “he was _very_ close - but not close enough.” Then he sent her away to the Asphodel Fields.

Orpheus followed his wife a few months later. Cortana saw them later on when she was out riding one of the massive black stallions that pulled John’s chariot; they were eating a spare meal out in the long grass, and she briefly longed for someone who would do even that simple thing with her, having a small picnic like mortals instead of a grand feast that inevitably ended in at least one drunken stabbing and another illegitimate spawn from Zeus, complete with a lifelong vendetta from Hera. The husband and wife looked much happier here than she had ever been at one of said feasts, anyway.

Then she wondered - would John want to do that with her? He said they were wed, and she was Queen of the Underworld…

Eventually she got up the courage to ask, and he agreed and took her to the base of the mountain that his palace crowned. “Very few of our attendants ever come down here,” he said as their horses walked along the beach, heading for a break in the trees that came down to the sand, “They prefer to just will themselves everywhere, so if you ever feel the need for privacy, this is the place.”

Cortana nodded, and let John lead the way down a narrow track through the forest that headed for the base of the mountain - all the way to it, actually. A waterfall came down into a clearing there, spilling out of a spring that came out of the rock somewhere above them, filling the air with a mist that was pleasantly cool in the heat of what passed for the Underworld’s ‘day’. She helped Hades spread out a blanket in the shade of the trees, then hiked up her skirts to wade in the shallows of the pools below the falls.

Little silver fish darted around her feet as she moved carefully through the cold water and over the slick stones; she was a goddess, she wouldn’t die from a simple slip and fall, but it would still hurt. But carrying her skirts in her hand was incredibly awkward, made it hard to balance - until John came over. “Here, I don’t know if you can actually do it with a _peplos_ , but to hold _chiton poderes_ up we do it like this.”

Cortana had heard of how men “girded their loins” - tied up their robes - to fight or do hard work, but she had never actually seen it or learned to do it herself. Now John showed her how to gather up her robes as much as possible, bring the fabric between her legs, then separate it into two segments and tie them around her waist. It took a bit of getting used to, but having both hands free much improved her balance and let her investigate all kinds of little creatures living in the waterfall’s plunge pool.

John watched her with a soft smile from where he was sitting on a rock at the edge of the pool, his bare feet dangling down into the cool water, and after some time of weaving through the water following the little animals living there, Cortana came to sit next to him and, finally, leaned her head against his shoulder. After a moment, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rested his head against her own.

* * *

After that moment in the hidden grove, Cortana started taking a more active role in the palace of the Underworld. She began managing the household more directly and also the decoration of it, bringing light and color to a once dark and sometimes dreary place. She rode often with her husband to other hidden groves and grottoes in the shadow of their mountain, enjoying the peace and quiet but also talking to John about his life and other events before her own birth. She also went out to see Cerberus often, and played with the serpent-dog when she could.

But of course, nothing good could last forever.

The next time John came to see her about a petitioner, his face was grim and closed off. He led her to the throne room without a word.

But there was no mortal there begging for their aid.

It was Hermes, frowning at John - but he brightened at the sight of Cortana trailing along next to him in confusion, and sent her a winning smile. “Ah, Miss Kore! It is good to see you well. Come, we must return to your mother in all haste.”

Cortana stopped in an instant, and so did the god next to her. “ _My mother?_ ” she nearly demanded, “I am _despoina_ in my husband’s house. What does my _mother_ have to do with this?”

Hermes’ smile faded, and he swallowed thickly at the storm clouds gathering on her face. “Miss Kore…”

“ _Tell me,_ ” she commanded, and the messenger did.

Hades had asked the leave of Zeus to carry off his daughter to be wed, but no one had spoken to Demeter on the matter. She believed Cortana had gone missing - which, in a way she had - and spent the better part of several years searching the whole world for her before Hecate and Helios finally took pity on her and told her what had happened. When she learned the truth, she had been enraged and flown in the face of Zeus, demanding her daughter’s return. Zeus hadn’t wanted to anger his brother and so had refused, but because of that Demeter had withdrawn to grieve.

Her power had been removed from the world, and so as a result, nothing would grow. No fruits of tree and vine, no golden fields of grain. Plants _grew_ , of course - that was not Demeter’s domain, but Cortana’s - but there was no _food_. The whole world was starving, and so the people had cried out to the gods for aid and mercy, who in their turn had gone to Demeter and begged her to restore the earth. She said that not even a single stalk of grain would flower to harvest unless Cortana was returned to her, so Hermes had come on the command of Zeus to bring her home.

Cortana herself had wondered at the sudden increase in the number of souls coming through the Gates of the Underworld, but thought it another of the endless wars always being waged in one place or another. She hadn't thought it was because of _her_.

She turned away from Hermes to bury her face in John’s chest, and he held her close. “I don’t want to leave,” she whispered to him, hoping that the messenger wouldn’t hear.

“And I don’t want you to go,” John said, already resigned, “but neither of us can afford to defy Zeus, not with this on the line. If the mortals can barely afford to feed themselves, they certainly will not be making offerings to Olympus, and nothing will upset Zeus faster or more thoroughly than not receiving his due. You must return home.”

She looked up at him, tears gathering in her eyes, and he pressed their foreheads together with the utmost gentleness. “Think fondly of Cerberus and I, my dear,” he said softly, “and remember always that you are the Queen of the Underworld; I can do little about the other gods, but any mortals who do not give you your due offerings and respect will be punished for it most harshly when they enter in our realm.”

Cortana’s tears spilled free, and she tilted her head up those last few inches to kiss John for the first time. Yet as she did so, she realized that though he had spoken clearly, he was carrying something in his mouth. She tilted her head to kiss him deeper, to pull the tiny shapes into her own mouth and feel them out with her tongue-

Pomegranate seeds; she recognized the texture of the bright red aril. With Hermes watching them so closely, John couldn't actually hand her anything to take with her when she went back to the surface - but he could give her a choice to return to the Underworld, if she so desired. After all, there was a reason she had never eaten of the food of the Underworld; those who did so could never leave. Yet that rule in that particular form was for mortals; there was no telling how the prohibition differed in the case of gods.

They would soon find out.

The seeds burst between her teeth, flooding their mouths with tart sweetness.

* * *

Hades called for his attendants to harness his horses (named Phobos and Deimos after the children of Ares) and lent Hermes his chariot to take Cortana back to the surface, though his eyes never left her. She bade farewell (for now) to Cerberus as well, and the serpent-dog whined and laid down at her feet, staring up at her with almost tearful eyes.

Cortana didn’t dare say that she would return. Hermes was listening.

She still felt Hades’ eyes on her when the chariot sped for the surface, racing across Styx and all the other rivers of the underworld, then up through the smaller caves above, a journey of hours even for the tireless horses.

At last they came to the surface, and Cortana had to shield her eyes against the sudden bright light of Helios in his own chariot high in the sky. She also shrank back against the sudden openness of the blue sky above her; after so long in the Underworld, the dark dome of the cavern ceiling overhead felt more comfortable than the empty air. If Hermes noticed, he said nothing, only snapped the reins to send the horses faster to Olympus, where her mother waited.

Almost all the gods were in attendance, but none save Demeter took notice of their arrival - or their just-as-swift departure. Her mother spirited her away to - well, Cortana didn’t know _where_ exactly, but in contrast to everything else she saw on the chariot ride to Olympus, it was rich and green, full of growing things.

When Cortana told her what had transpired in the Underworld, Demeter was greatly upset, especially when she heard that her daughter had eaten the pomegranate seeds of her own will. “Whatever _your_ will might be, to keep me sheltered in your shadow forever, I am almost a woman grown, Mother!” Cortana said over her cries of grief, “If it had not been Hades, it would have been someone else - Hermes and Apollo have already attempted to court me, don’t think me blind to those gifts you sent back to them, they still hold out hope and who knows how many others - or _worse_ , it might have been _Zeus_.”

“He is your _father_ -”

“That wouldn't stop him!” Cortana’s shout startled her mother to silence. “You _know_ him, Mother. You’ve been around him _much_ longer than I have. You know he can never resist a pretty face.”

That didn’t stop Demeter from taking their case before Zeus, but in the end there was nothing for it. Cortana had eaten the food of the Underworld, and so she remained wed to Hades and had to return there for a few months of the year - a few months that she secretly looked forward to the entire time she was on the surface.

Finally it was time. The dark of the year was upon them, and Cortana didn't even wait for Hermes to come get her. She tied up the skirts of her _peplos_ the way John had shown her and nearly flew to the entrance to the Underworld and down to the edge of the River Styx, bypassing the line of mortal souls waiting for the ferryman, too breathless from her run to make a sound. Though it was hardly necessary at this point, she still handed Charon the fare for the passage and sat at the bow of the boat the way Cerberus had so long ago.

The serpent-dog in question spotted her and started barking happily before they drew within a hundred yards of the far shore, but Cortana was patient and waited for Charon to pole them up onto the sand before jumping out and greeting Cerberus with delighted scratches and belly rubs. Then when he ran off barking at some souls trying to climb out of Tartarus, she raced for the palace.

She couldn't say how she knew where John was, only that she did, and she ran through the halls to him.

He must have heard her coming, because he was in the midst of rising from his chair when she nearly slammed open the door to his study. A second later he stumbled and collapsed back into the chair once more, though he still easily held her in his arms like he had once taken Cerberus’s full weight without pause or flinch.

She broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together as Hades had before her departure some months before. “I have missed you, my husband,” she whispered.

“I have missed you, my wife,” he returned, just as soft, just as warm, cradling her in his arms like she was the most elegant amphora holding the finest of wines - not delicate like glass, but something worthy of reverence, of honor, of delight.

Cortana kissed him again and felt the heat start to rise between them.

Whatever anyone else may have believed, Hades was _not_ Thanatos, the God of Death, stiff and cold like his siblings Geras and Oizys and Charon and all the rest. He was the God of the Underworld, his domain lay deep under the earth…

...where seeds were planted to grow.

Her fingers found the fastenings for his _chiton poderes_ , even as he undid those for her _peplos_ , the fabric sliding from their bodies like water to pool on the floor at their feet.

“Cortana,” John murmured against her lips, strong hands roving down over her chest, then around her hips and up her back, and she sighed in response.

“If only we had had more time before,” she whispered in reply, and kissed him again, deeper this time, stroking her own hands down his muscled chest. On him the muscles in question weren't a display like on some of the other gods, weren't sculpted _just so_ and oiled so they glistened in the golden light of Olympus. He was a practical god, and so he was simply strong - and used that strength now to stand up again with her in his arms.

He turned and sat her back down on his chair - then went to his knees between her spread thighs. She realized what he intended to do the instant before he did it and shuddered; she’d never believed for a second that she would have a husband as invested in her pleasure as she was expected to be in his.

He spread her open with his thumbs and licked a smooth but firm stripe up, then curled the tip of his tongue around her clit and did a slower but equally firm drag over it.

Cortana was vaguely aware of the pain in her head from where she’d thrown it against the backrest of the chair, and the surprising softness of John’s hair against her hands. She gasped sharply enough to make her chest ache when he did it again, then let out a cry when he switched to sucking at her clit while slipping a finger into her.

He moved with the infinite patience she’d come to expect of him, a sharp contrast to her own insistent demands for _more, deeper, faster!_ John only chuckled - a wonderful stimulation all its own - and maintained his pace, briefly dipping to slide his tongue into her alongside his finger before returning to her folds and clit while a second finger joined the first and pressed against her walls, stroked over them.

Her mind whited out and only slowly drifted back down to earth, like a falling leaf. When she opened her eyes again, John was watching her intently, blue eyes blazing like the heart of a flame. “You're beautiful,” he said, and her cheeks colored. To hide her embarrassment she pulled him down to kiss her, wrapping her arms around his neck and tasting herself on his lips.

He lifted her into his arms again, still kissing her, and somehow made his way to their bedchamber without dropping her or running into a wall. The sheets were as soft and pleasantly cool as ever when he lowered her onto them, still handling her tenderly but not like glass.

Cortana pulled him down with her, then rolled them to sit astride his hips. He let her do it and lay under her without protest, looking up at her and brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

She leaned down to kiss him again and, in the same motion, moved their bodies _just so…_

He wasn't cold inside her; even knowing that he was the God of _the Dead_ rather than _Death_ , she’d still half-expected it. In truth he was warm, like rich earth baked under the summer sun, and filled her just right; if she had been one to believe in such things, she would have said they were made for each other.

But she wasn't, so instead she moved, and he moved with her, lifting his hands so she could brace herself, get more strength behind their thrusts until John growled low in his throat, hips bucking as he came.

Her husband did not leave her unsatisfied for even a moment. His body still shuddering with the climax, his hands released her own to seek out pleasure zones on her body, one stroking down her neck and over her chest to cup a breast and tweak a nipple, even as the other sought out her clit.

Her mind went white again, and she was only vaguely aware of her mouth gasping John’s name.

When she came back to herself, he had moved them completely up onto the bed, stretched out but lying together under a soft linen sheet. She was cradled in his arms against his chest, listening to his heart beat - a mortal affection she hadn't expected, yet the longer she listened, the more she found she liked the sound under her ear.

She looked up, carefully to avoid disturbing the fingers running slowly through her hair, and found that John’s eyes were closed, though more in contemplation than slumber. “Did you hear that they have given me a new name?”

John’s eyes opened, and he looked down at her to give her his full attention. “Have they now? What is it? Do you like it?”

“I think I do, actually,” she said, a smile pulling at her lips, “and they call me Persephone.”


End file.
